


'cause you're a criminal [as long as you're mine]

by ashamedbliss



Series: to catch a thief, to fall in love [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst and Feels, Car Chases, Enemy Lovers, Forbidden Love, M/M, Police, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 19:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: Merlin is a good getaway driver. So good that the police haven't been able to catch him yet.Well... PC Arthur Pendragon seems to have him caught in some way, at least.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: to catch a thief, to fall in love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2232297
Comments: 24
Kudos: 110
Collections: /r/FanFiction Trope Bingo Events, The Melee Challenge





	'cause you're a criminal [as long as you're mine]

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Bad Romance_ by Lady Gaga.
> 
> This counts as my first Melee entry! I had 'road' as my word prompt and 'raisin black (2A2D34)' as my colour prompt. Thanks to: the mods at the Merlin Fic Book Club discord for organising this; my best friend for helping make the police elements a bit more believable; and sugarloaf for that fateful idea of making Arthur a police officer.
> 
> This also fills 2 of the slots on my r/FanFiction trope bingo card, you can find them in the end notes.

Merlin thumbs at the buttons on the steering wheel, trying to find exactly the right song to fit the moment.

It needs to be a powerful one. He needs bass loud enough that he can hear it over the noise of the road, and the 3-litre engine purring under the bonnet. He needs lyrics that help ground him in this instant, that encapsulate the euphoria of another job well done, an escape well made. He needs a guitar riff unique enough that he’ll associate this song with this moment, forever.

So, when _Bad Romance_ by Lady Gaga starts playing, Merlin smiles at it’s the exact opposite of what he’s looking for. Drumming his thumbs against the wheel, he presses the accelerator flat against the floor.

This part of the motorway has been freshly resurfaced, allowing Merlin’s graceful climb from 85 to 120 miles per hour to pass with frightening speed. The smile turns into a full-blown grin when two things happen at once: the needle starts edging 130, and what had appeared to be a regular silver BMW behind him starts flashing blue lights.

Merlin’s been caught out by undercover officers a couple of times before. He glances to the small, indistinct rucksack on the passenger seat, right next to him in case he has to ditch the car quickly. He prides himself on the fact that he hasn’t had to do it, yet, always successful in his work.

The unmarked police car behind him comes up close on his bumper. In the rear-view mirror, Merlin can make out what looks like a blond man at the steering wheel. With a roll of his eyes, Merlin puts his foot down again, easily climbing to 130 and beyond as he swerves into a different lane, avoiding another car with a meticulously calculated manoeuvre. It’s late on a summer evening; most people in this part of the country are sat in their back gardens or pubs with a beer or cider, enjoying the last of the sunshine.

Merlin looks to the bag of diamonds on the passenger seat once more.

The road is blissfully empty, allowing Merlin to tease the police officer a little, playing with the brakes and varying his speed. He amuses himself with the idea of escaping him, just this once. Before Merlin can fully entertain the notion, he finds that of his own accord he’s slowing down for the next slip-road off the motorway.

Curling onto a dual carriageway, he and the police officer nearly race to the next roundabout, the pretence of a chase all but up. _Bad Romance_ finishes, much to Merlin’s disappointment, and he turns the music down. The sirens of the police car cut out as the two cars fall below the national speed limit in synchronisation with each other, and the lights then stop flashing too.

Merlin takes a convoluted series of turns past a village primary school and a housing estate, before he ends up deep down a farmer’s track, shaded under some trees. There’s a wheat field to his left; he could run, he thinks, as the BMW pulls up behind him. Off into the countryside, never to be seen again.

Instead, he kills the engine, and he waits.

Maybe this is it.

Knuckles rap against the window. Merlin winds it down and grins. “Well, hello detective, this is a pleasant surprise. Want to pat me down in a search?”

Police Constable Pendragon sighs. “You’re always fucking insufferable after a job, you know that, right?”

Arthur steps back, opening Merlin’s door for him as he does so. Merlin climbs out, leaving the rucksack on the passenger seat. “How did you know I’ve just finished a job?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Arthur looks him up and down. Merlin is decked out in his traditional black t-shirt and jeans, his usual choice for a heist. Arthur wears a hoodie zipped up high, which nearly conceals the stab vest underneath it.

It’s silent between them for a moment, save for the crackle of the police radio that Merlin can hear through Arthur’s open car door, a few metres away.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Because, once again, you’re in this Porsche, which I have told you, _repeatedly_ , that you need to change out. It’s too distinctive.” He rakes his eyes over it, its matte-black paint job. “Even if it is a beauty of a car.”

Merlin leans back against it, beaming. “Aha!” A pause. “You can have a drive in it if you like.”

Arthur laughs, and then Merlin joins him, because they both know that will never happen. “I take it you’ve dropped Will and Freya off already.” Merlin nods. “What was it this time?”

Pulling a face, Merlin shrugs, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe diamonds. Maybe not.”

Arthur tears his eyes from the rucksack still in the car. “And how’s your mother?”

“She’s been better,” Merlin says with a shrug. “But she’s stable for now.”

“Good,” Arthur says, nodding, even though this is the polar opposite of _good_.

“Has Morgana gotten off your case yet?” Merlin asks, watching at the muscle twitching in the corner of Arthur’s jaw.

“ _Detective Chief Inspector Le Fay_ ,” he intones, raising an eyebrow at Merlin, “is very keen on catching your merry band of bandits, you know. I’d get a Chief Constable’s commendation, which means I would finally be able to transfer to the firearms team.”

Merlin swallows, mouth dry. “You want that, don’t you.” It’s not a question.

Arthur nods, looking right at Merlin as he does so.

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Arthur is the one to break, this time. He steps forward, and immediately Merlin puts his hands on Arthur’s hips, pulling him flush against him.

“I want you more,” Arthur says, and the tension leaves them both in a long sigh. “I want you so much that it’s going to tear me apart,” he says, kissing the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin tips his head back, letting Arthur press him back into the car, allowing Arthur to mouth at his neck.

Arthur murmurs against his skin. “Why don’t you give it up, Merlin?” One hand is settled between Merlin’s shoulder blades, the other in his hair, holding him close. “You’ve made millions by now, and I know you haven’t been spending it. You’re saving it. So why not stop?”

“You know I can’t,” Merlin says. “Will... Freya...”

Arthur knows all about Will and Freya; they’re part of the intelligence pack his team has been putting together for the best part of a year now. Will the criminal mastermind, Freya the hacker, and Merlin the getaway driver. Strangely, every time the investigation gets close to a breakthrough, the files mysteriously disappear from the police’s computer systems and they have to start all over again.

Turning them, Merlin presses Arthur against the car. He kisses him properly until they’re both gasping into it, as if it’s the last time they’ll ever know each other like this. Arthur’s lips are red when they part, his skin even more golden in the light of the setting sun. “Why don’t _you_ give it up?” Merlin asks, looking into Arthur’s eyes. “Retire from the police. Go into personal security or something, have no obligation to chase after me every time.” A small kiss to the tip of Arthur’s nose. “No obligation to let me go every time, either.”

Arthur huffs a laugh. “I have no obligation to do the latter, anyway.” He doesn’t smile, but he looks away, towards the sunset. He isn’t brave enough to meet Merlin’s eyes this time. “You know I can’t,” he says, echoing Merlin’s earlier words.

It’s a familiar dance; they both know the steps, that they will have to part soon.

“I wish you had a sense of duty a bit more aligned with mine,” Merlin mumbles, resting his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder. “You know I’m not out to hurt anyone; I don’t even carry a weapon.”

“I know,” Arthur says, threading his hand through Merlin’s hair again. “But what you do is still against the law, regardless of whether it’s to help your mum, or Freya’s... cousin?”

“Sister,” Merlin corrects automatically. He freezes for a moment when he realises what he’s done, before Arthur’s gentle caresses relax him again. “Guess you can have that one for free.”

Arthur’s exhale tickles the hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck. Merlin allows himself to be cradled, the criminal by the police officer, in the middle of the countryside where no one can see them. The sun is about to dip below the horizon, and Merlin knows he has to leave.

“This gets harder every time,” Merlin says, lifting his head to meet Arthur’s eyes. If he didn’t know Arthur better, he would say they’re full of tears. At least now, he knows not to say it aloud.

Arthur’s ears prick up at his callsign being mentioned on the radio. Merlin lets him move away from the Porsche to walk back to his own car, reaching inside to pick up the receiver. “Whiskey five four, Emrys lost on M2. Last seen going coastbound at junction 12, over.” Merlin knows that junction 12 is miles from here. Arthur listens for a few moments longer before he stands up straight again. “Morgana’s going to have me over the coals for this.”

Merlin opens his mouth to speak, but then shuts it. They both know what his suggestion would have been.

“I better go,” Merlin says. He turns towards his car, but Arthur grabs his wrist. For a moment, Merlin wonders if one day, instead of Arthur’s fingers, it’ll be handcuffs.

“Merlin.”

Arthur cups his face and kisses him hard. Merlin pulls him close once again, never quite able to get enough, always terrified that this time will be the last.

They part slowly. Arthur steps back and then turns away, with no goodbye said. Merlin knows that he will sit in his car, staring out at the darkened fields and listening to the radio chatter for nearly half an hour, unable to watch Merlin drive away and unable to forgive himself for letting him do so.

Merlin gets in his own car, and when he starts the engine the Porsche roars to life once again. He turns and speeds back along the road, kicking up dust in his wake and trying not to consider if he will ever see Arthur again.

He looks once more to the diamonds in the passenger seat.

Grabbing the bag, he throws them out of the window, into the night beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills 'getaway driver' and 'star-crossed lovers' on my trope bingo card. 9/25.


End file.
